a home for homeless literature
Here's a little thing I wrote for the Thornburg website. Some guy called me a jerk and told me to post it on slapdash. So that's what I did. The title I stole from a Low lyric that goes like this: "The future is prisms and math." The song is called "Death of a Salesman." It's on one of Low's worst albums, "The Great Destroyer." Anyway, here's my thing. I'm not sure exactly what to call it.
These designs are of a sinister nature. We've calculated the distance of a single point of reference on the earth to the farthest possible reaches of space. We now know the exact dimensions of the smallest living organism. Our lives have been catalogued extensively on microchips smaller than a baby's thumb. We've transplanted nature with formulas, graphs, read-outs, charts, schedules, guides, maps, satellite imagery, chemical compositions, chronology, manuals, manifestos, crossword puzzles, product codes, lasers, radios. Deforestation is just an emblem of our dissatisfaction with the answers we've received. Somewhere there's a stationwagon full of spliced wires and explosive devices. An underground league of half-wits is planning the destruction of the earth from the urinal stalls of your favourite pub. Anagrams and alphabet soup. Secret radio frequencies intercepted in the stratosphere. Decipher the code. Punch-drunk and falling in the streets. Who can blame them? Me, I carry a small transistor radio in my back pocket. I listen to the top ten and complain constantly about the weather. I'm always late for the bus and I blame it on the bus. I listen to my radio and catch the latest news, as filtered through whichever filter happens to be working that day. I speak loudly in public places. I decipher codes. Secret radio frequencies in the stratosphere. That's the sound that energy makes. Cosmic disturbances. You can actually listen to the sun flaring. Decipher the code. I carry a small transistor radio in my back pocket. It nightlights as a bomb and will detonate on my command. These designs are of a sinister nature. The future is prisms and math.
These designs are of a sinister nature. We've calculated the distance of a single point of reference on the earth to the farthest possible reaches of space. We now know the exact dimensions of the smallest living organism. Our lives have been catalogued extensively on microchips smaller than a baby's thumb. We've transplanted nature with formulas, graphs, read-outs, charts, schedules, guides, maps, satellite imagery, chemical compositions, chronology, manuals, manifestos, crossword puzzles, product codes, lasers, radios. Deforestation is just an emblem of our dissatisfaction with the answers we've received. Somewhere there's a stationwagon full of spliced wires and explosive devices. An underground league of half-wits is planning the destruction of the earth from the urinal stalls of your favourite pub. Anagrams and alphabet soup. Secret radio frequencies intercepted in the stratosphere. Decipher the code. Punch-drunk and falling in the streets. Who can blame them? Me, I carry a small transistor radio in my back pocket. I listen to the top ten and complain constantly about the weather. I'm always late for the bus and I blame it on the bus. I listen to my radio and catch the latest news, as filtered through whichever filter happens to be working that day. I speak loudly in public places. I decipher codes. Secret radio frequencies in the stratosphere. That's the sound that energy makes. Cosmic disturbances. You can actually listen to the sun flaring. Decipher the code. I carry a small transistor radio in my back pocket. It nightlights as a bomb and will detonate on my command. These designs are of a sinister nature. The future is prisms and math.
3 Responses to “The Future is Prisms and Math”
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ATOM 0.3
Like waiting against the gymnasium wall at a grade school dance.
I like the bigness to the smallness and back. Most of the repetition is smashing. "Sinister nature" is pushing it a bit though, while I liked the rest of the language. "These designs are sinister"? Or whatever you want. Long live Kurt Cobain.
I like the moof of the piece, very quick and gains momentum as it reads further. kinda funny but maybe that's just me. I think I want a bit more context to the rant, jsut a bit so that I can manuever the "we" and the "I" a little more easily; right now I'm not quite sure why/who is speaking other than maybe smoe crazy guy (or is he crazy?). Maybe you could have some actual code in there because i think codes and translating are big parts of the piece. Also because a lot of the phrases are effective (like planning in the stalls of pubs one) they make the ones around them demand the same sort of effectiveness, which doesn't always happen (for example, "Somewhere there's a stationwagon full of spliced wires and explosive devices". That line clunked for me). Towards the end I might drop the periods and start running things together a little more, play off that momentum you're building. nicely done yo.
The voice is interesting in this piece. I get the feeling at first that it is a "state-of-the-union" type address. A sort of propagandist rhetoric, sort of like a "we have the technology. we can make you faster, stronger, etc." type thing.
I really like the idea of the human anchor as information filter. Too often they are considered merely a medium of transmission, and I think people tend to discount everything involved in their subjectivity, from which they can never be totally divorced, even when merely reporting material prepared for them by outside sources.
I agree with Tucker about the short staccato sentences at the end. Not sure if they work better the other way, but might want to change it. I would also work on the transistor "nightlighting" part. For some reason it stands out in stark relief to the rest of the piece, though not in a way which I can really pinpoint specifically. Maybe just "I am also a bomb and can detonate at will" or something more tied to the individual would work.